


Dining Out

by lost_spook



Series: 50 Ficlets - Claim Kenny Phillips, Press Gang [11]
Category: Press Gang
Genre: Community: 50ficlets, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-03
Updated: 2011-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:13:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenny and Lynda have got a table booked in one of Norbridge’s finest restaurants.  The question is: what’s Lynda up to this time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dining Out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ community 50ficlets prompt 36 'Eating Out'. Mid S2. No spoilers.

“I don’t know what your problem is, Kenny. I mean, you know how to eat. Don’t try to deny it. I’ve seen you. In fact, now I think of it, you left biscuit crumbs over the desk yesterday, and I’m thinking about docking your pay for the next month.”

“Only thinking? I’m overwhelmed, Lynda. Did you get visited by the ghost of Christmas past?”

Lynda Day, editor of the _Junior Gazette_ , glared at her best friend and assistant editor.

Kenny rolled his eyes at the ceiling of the restaurant. It was one of Norbridge’s most elegant establishments, but he wished he were anywhere else. “Okay, okay, but I still don’t see why us, and why here. Lynda -”

“I’ve explained at least ten times,” said Lynda, laying her arms on the table and leaning forward. “Our new restaurant review feature in the Gazette. We arrive, order, eat, try not to throw up, and then praise or criticise in print. You remember, those little black letters on white paper that we spend so much time trying to assemble in a publishable state. With no errors this week, thanks. I don’t want to put my name to a publication that recommends the ‘Sneezer Salad’ in Czars, even if you do.”

“I was off last week, Lynda.”

His best friend studied the menu. “You were? I let you?”

“Yeah. Beats me, too, boss,” said Kenny. He paused, and frowned. “Do Czars even do salad?”

“According to Frazz and Tiddler. Or they did, before our review came out.”

Kenny realised he’d been successfully side-tracked, and retraced his steps back to the main path. “Lynda, this place is outside the pocket of most of our readers, so what’s the point? In fact, it’s out of _my_ league. I’m going to have to stay in for a month after this.”

“I can’t see what you’re complaining about – at least you’ll have gone out _once_ this month.”

“Lynda -.”

They were interrupted by the waiter, coming to take their order, and they did so, on their best behaviour: Lynda ordering with a certain flair, and Kenny sticking to salad, since it was the cheapest thing on the menu and there didn’t seem to be any getting out of this.

Lynda shifted in her seat. “I hate posh restaurants. Waiters sneering, as if you ought to be ordering in French.”

“In Norbridge’s finest Italian? I don’t think so, Lynda.”

She started one of her wicked smiles; it spread slowly across her face. “I could always give them a terrible write-up.”

“If you want Colin to hate you,” said Kenny. “He’s already planning what he’s going to do with the profits from the advertising – and -.” He stopped, and stared at the couple who’d that minute walked in through the main door. “I knew it, Lynda! I _knew_ you were up to something.”

Lynda put her elbows on the cloth-covered table and rested her chin on her hands, her smile now completely innocent. “Oh?”

“Spike’s just sat down over there with some girl. He must really be trying to impress her. You know, Lynda, you’re despicable.” It wasn’t entirely a criticism. Kenny had a sneaking admiration for Lynda’s evil streak.

Lynda raised her eyebrows, and widened her eyes. If she’d looked any more innocent, someone would have given her a halo. “Spike Thomson? Here? What a coincidence, Kenny. Here we are and he happens to arrive -.”

Kenny sighed to himself, and reflected that it was as well he’d only ordered a salad because they were never going to get to the main course.

*

“That went well,” Lynda said, as they both walked away along the lamplit, north London streets.

Kenny hunched himself as he walked. “Lynda, we got thrown out for starting a fight. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

“I tasted enough of that Bolognese to know I’m not giving them any stars,” Lynda said, unperturbed, “and I don’t think Spike and Holly is going to last, do you?”

Kenny shook his head. “Not after you accused him of cheating on you, slapped him, and sobbed all over him, no. I’m not surprised she stormed out.”

“Yes,” murmured Lynda, a smile playing about her mouth. “I wouldn’t have thought she had it in her to slam that lasagne in his face, would you? Waste of good food, if you ask me.”

“Lynda, call it a crazy suggestion, but if you can’t stand it when Spike goes out with other girls, why don’t you say yes next time he asks you?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” snapped Lynda. “The poor girl ought to know what she’s getting herself into, that’s all. It was a rescue mission. I can’t bear the thought of his rubber lips all over some unsuspecting victim – and what are you looking at, Phillips?”

Kenny grinned back at her. “Nothing, boss.”

He reflected to himself that one day he would work out whether being Lynda’s friend was the best or worst thing that had ever happened to him, but it kept life interesting in the meantime.


End file.
